


i was standing (you were there)

by pinkgrapefruit



Series: e l e v e n [5]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M, Season 11, never tear us apart - inxs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: Their lips barely touched but it felt like comfort. It felt like home.(or there are moments in episode five where brooke is just not okay)





	i was standing (you were there)

**Author's Note:**

> I am back, back, back again with more branjie for y'all. As usual, all work is my own and although this is based on real people, both the characters and the story are my own interpretation and therefore fully fabricated. Enjoy!

_‘You have to leave your man at home’_

_‘Okay, so what about Brooke Lynn and Vanjie?’_

 

He smiled into himself as he rolled his eyes. The second they had kissed in front of them all, no matter how necessary it had been to calm her down in the moment, he couldn't help the tiny voice in his head telling him that it was all over for them. No one had ever done this before, no one knew what would happen to them, and god forbid if Ru ever found out. As if reading how far he’d gotten into his own head, she responded to whatever probe A’keria had made, _‘Brooke Lynn’s a good friend of mine’_ came the grainy dulcet tones and if he was being honest, he almost felt offended. He knew it was for show, the coy answers were just to appease the onlooking girls, but the idea that any of this wasn't the rawest and most honest thing he’d felt in a long while stung him. Instead, he just laughed, played along to her own loud guffaws.

 

_‘I think vanjie’s really cute and we’re just getting to know each other’_

he responded once he’d collected himself enough to speak. It was worth it though for the cutest little smile that crossed her face, momentarily maybe, but he saw it - and it calmed every bone in his body. The smile itself relit the fire in his stomach that had burned out when he watched her fall apart. With that, she leaned over silky and he had to raise his body just a little bit to reach her, their lips barely touched but it felt like comfort. It felt like home.

 

_‘Bitch, fuck going home, not when my jush is here.’_

 

He couldn't help but laugh.

 

***

 

They’d only been there a few hours but Brooke was stressed. The pressure was mounting on him like he’d never felt before and he felt like he was sinking, too far from a lifeboat to try and stay afloat. In the height of his fabric fuelled panic, he’d moved to seek comfort from the only person in the workroom he felt could hold his heart for a second. The one he hoped could calm the staccato drum beat in his chest. Vanjie.

 

He couldn't tell if he felt dizzy or just nauseous as he made the short walk from his own cluttered station to the sofas that she liked to spread her work over (whatever it was it wasn't helped by the temperature within the four, soft-core foam walls which, in turn, had led to her taking her shirt off and that in itself was making him flustered enough). So in his delirium he marched over with an air of confidence he couldn't implicitly say he possessed and a plastic prop snake awkwardly wrapped around his neck.

 

Luckily for him, she seemed equally pressed, standing at a mirror with half a length of camouflage fabric awkwardly pinned around her waist. Her hair was dripping with sweat negating the bandana that, purely for the purposes of fashion and driving Brooke insane, was tied loosely around the base of her throat. He wanted to pull her over by it. He resisted.

 

As Brooke fiddled with his makeshift headpiece, she turned to him, eyes fluttering shut and mouth in that cute little pout he just couldn't say no to. _‘A good friend on mine my ass’_ he thought as he met her, melting into the kiss for as long as was deemed acceptable in front of their peers. She pulled away with a soft moan, face immediately returning to the tight, puzzled look that had been there whilst she examined her would be skirt. He left her to it, couldn’t stand to watch her tear herself apart for a fifth week in a row, couldn't let her distract him from the competition.

 

***

 

It was runway day. He’d be lying if he said he wasn't shitting himself entirely - feeling unprepared for anything and everything and wholly inadequate at his current profession. In that moment he felt completely and utterly lucky to have his arm wrapped around a tiny man in the sexiest goddamn glasses and that fucking bandana and shorts that did him all of the favours when stood next to a tall Canadian who was, frankly, touch-starved no matter how often they brushed fingers or lips in quiet places or ankles on that godforsaken bus.

 

_‘Now gimme a kiss’_

 

He wanted to scream. All the stress and tension the two had felt form the day before had carried over and all he wanted to do was walk over and hold her, just for a minute, just till he could safely say he was okay. Instead, he held it together. Pretended that beneath the prozade and powder, he was going to be a-okay.

 

She was a different story. She’d already blocked her brows in the sharply lit hotel mirror, expecting to have to fix something or have her preplanned for, 15-minute mental breakdown - but oddly enough, she felt fine. Everything was in place and so when she finished her makeup 15 minutes early and had nothing to do, the emptiness consumed her. It pained her that they had to play it safe for the cameras. Had to pretend they hadn't found ways around rules and lockdowns and seclusions. That they didn’t know each other inside and out from unauthorised hangouts in bathroom stalls and smoke breaks.

 

The loneliness was killing her, crushing her very soul into the eggshells that they were unwittingly walking on. She just wanted it to stop.

 

 _‘Hey baby’_ she said, longing for him to hear what she meant. Hoping that he could read her mind. _‘I know’_ he replied, as cool and steady as he could make his voice. It turned out, it wasn't very steady and with one strong tug on her part, he folded into her. Arms tight around her waist he breathed in the strong scent of kryolan and whatever hotel provided shampoo she used.

 

Everything was going to be okay as long as she was there.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! if you've got any feedback/ constructive criticism you can catch me in the comments here or over on tumblr @pink-grapefruit-cafe. I love you all and your feedback truly motivates me to keep writing xx


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